


Uroboros

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius goes mad in Azkaban, fantasizing about Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uroboros

**Author's Note:**

> Adult/teenager graphic imagery, angst.

Lucius dreams in black and white.

In prison, the dreams are as cold and hard as the stones in the walls. He shivers and sweats out his fear. There’s no telling day from night; there are no windows here.

He thinks he remembers the feeling of sunshine on his shoulders, but with the Dementors so close by, the memory fades like a stain of breath on a mirror.

Lucius dreams of only one thing, every time.

Harry Potter.

Of his hands, leaving purple bruises on Harry’s broken neck.

Squeezing out tears. Raking up thin trails of blood with his fingernails.

He dreams himself into a snake, wrapping his body around the boy who lived, and slithers up to whisper to Harry in parsel tongue, “I’m going to kill you slowly, so that your spirit will remember what you have done to me.”

And Harry says, “Yes.”

He dreams of blue eyes, bright and happy. Choppy brown hair, in desperate need of a trim. He dreams of the wiry body, bony, still ungraceful, not quite yet matured. 

In his dreams, Potter’s on his knees, sucking his cock. 

He takes the boy up against the wall, rough, demanding. Potter’s back breaks open from scraping against the jagged stones. He bleeds from little cuts. 

Little cuts.

Often, Harry’s face will be blanketed by Lucius’ long blond hair, now matted and dirty. Brittle. Or Harry will be facing away, which frustrates him. Sometimes, Harry’s face is blurry.

He can’t see anything for the tears.

Worst of all—sometimes? He dreams that Harry is smiling contentedly. The boy looks at him trustingly, offers up his mouth for the kind of kiss they write into the end of fairytales in order to make them safe. 

Sometimes, Harry falls asleep curled against him, and then Azkaban is warm and smells of freshly cut grass and Lucius’ body does not feel old and bleached, but strapping, energized . . . vital. 

Those dreams he calls nightmares.

Lucius doesn’t want to remember what it was to be happy. If he thinks about anything other than his rage, he’ll feed off of the bittersweet image of Potter, lying in his arms—willingly, no less—and then the Dementors will come and suck that joy right out of him . . . and then the dreams will feed on his despair.

Uroboros. The snake that ate its tail.

It’s an endless cycle. Endless. He’s past begging for death. 

His dreams are like the sea, fluid, changing, cruel. Harry is fire. A phoenix. Light. He reaches out to touch the flame, but finds only cold stone.

Lucius dreams in black and white and devours himself whole. 

 

~*~

END

* The Serpent biting its own tail appears in New Kingdom Egypt (1600 years B.C.E.) It was taken up by the Phoenicians and then the Greeks, who called it the Ouroboros (or Uroboros), which means tail-devourer. They considered it the Great World Serpent, encircling the earth, associated with the world-ocean.


End file.
